Deadly Arrows
by Irene14
Summary: Alternate ending for "The Last Trophy". Two of the Indians had their bows drawn and ready to release the arrows just as Hoss and Joe burst into the clearing. What would have happened had they been a little slower reaching Adam? Rating T just to be safe minor violence, injured party, the like; no swearing .
1. Chapter 1

_AN: Originally intended to be an Adam/Joe story, it morphed into this._

_My first Bonanza story, I worked hard to remain true to the characters. Let me know what you think. As always, reviews/PM's are most welcome along with any helpful, constructive criticism. Thanks for reading!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bonanza, nor do I make anything from this. Purely a story by a fan for other fans to read._

**Deadly Arrows**

His muscles taut with tension, Adam watched helplessly as Marion and Belcher continued to struggle. He almost stepped forward as Belcher lifted Marion bodily by the waist, but the Indian nearby was quick to raise the rifle. He wouldn't be much help with a bullet in his heart and at less than 10 feet away, there was no chance of a miss.

He could barely restrain himself as several vicious blows drove Marion to the ground. In that instant of inaction, Beatrice snatched the knife from the table and charged across the clearing towards their captor. Belcher quickly overpowered her, twisting the knife out of her hand as he drove her to the rocks. The blade was at her throat as he growled, "I told you, you cross me, I'd cut your throat!"

Before he could carry out his threat, Marion struck out from where he lay on the ground, catching the ankle of the Indian guarding Adam. Adam snatched the rifle as it flew forward, dropping to one knee and simultaneously cocking it with his right hand.

At that unmistakable sound, Belcher quickly turned pulling in vain at his holster. The shot reverberated off the rocks and he fell.

The Indians scrambled for cover as Adam shifted back, trying to find what meager cover he could. It was too exposed! Marion, keeping his head low, army-crawled close to Adam. "Beatrice, keep down!" he motioned with his hand. She instantly crouched down, afraid to move and draw attention to herself.

The renegades, recovering from their initial surprise, began to advance toward the two men. Adam nervously shifted back again, wishing he wasn't so far out in the open. Hastily, he got off two shots, making the Indians duck down again. Taking the opportunity, he slipped behind the pack laying against the post as Marion scooted towards the back wall of the lean-to. Adam had fired three shots so far. If the rifle had been fully loaded, there were only seven shots left and six Indians facing them. He was going to have to make each one count if he was to get these people out alive. And do it he must!

They began to move again. Cradling the rifle against his cheek, Adam squeezed the trigger, the bullet hitting the foremost Indian in the shoulder as that man ducked back behind the tree.

A few more moments of tense waiting. Sweat trickled down into his eyes and he wiped it away. His left arm was throbbing dully and the rifle was getting heavier by the minute.

Suddenly Marion inhaled sharply next to him. "Beatrice, no!" he cried. Adam turned to see her duck back into the cave where the rest of the guns were stashed. Before he realized he had exposed himself, pain exploded in his left shoulder and something warm began to run down his arm and side, dampening his shirt. He fell back with a muffled cry, sparks dancing in his vision.

This time Marion didn't hesitate to move forward, the fear gone. His one thought was to reach Adam, this brave man who had been willing to risk a fight with Belcher even as Marion himself could not find the courage to do so.

Dropping in front of Adam, his hands closed on the rifle. With deadly accuracy he shot the lead Indian, momentarily halting the charge. Marion risked a glance at Adam; two arrows protruded from his left side, one in the shoulder, the other just below his collarbone. They were bleeding profusely and if he didn't get help soon. . .

He gave himself a mental shake. He had to focus, Adam's life was at stake!

Before the renegades could regroup, several shots sounded from near the cave. Keeping behind the rocks, Beatrice had reappeared with a rifle in her hand and two more set next to her. "Keep it up, Beatrice!" Marion called. Taking advantage of the brief diversion, he pulled Adam back several feet to a boulder behind them and slipping the sling off over Adam's head, he pressed it hard against the wounds.

Adam groaned. "Go help her," he said hoarsely.

Marion nodded as he placed Adam's right hand on the makeshift bandage, and took up the rifle he'd somehow managed to keep a hold of. Settling into position against the boulder, he snapped off two quick shots, wounding another Indian as they moved again.

* * *

"All right, hold it!" a voice rang out as Hoss and Joe unexpectedly burst into the clearing, rifles ready. Surrounded, the remaining Indians instantly gave up the fight.

"Drop it!" Joe commanded.

Seeing their former captors disarmed and being tied up, Beatrice promptly rushed to Marion. He gave her a reassuring hug to quell her shaking.

Little Joe spoke again. "Adam?" he called over his shoulder, "you all right?" Receiving no response, he called again. "Adam? Adam?"

Marion pulled away from his wife. "Beatrice get me some bandages, hurry!" She moved forward to do as he asked.

"I got 'em Joe, you go see to Adam," Hoss said. Joe turned and rushed behind the boulder, his heart freezing at the sight before him. Adam lay on the ground, deathly pale, two arrows protruding from his upper left side, a bloody bandage on that same arm. He dropped to his knees beside his oldest brother.

"Hey big brother, just take it easy," he said softly as Adam managed to half sit up. He helped Adam lean against the boulder, careful to avoid his injured shoulder.

"Let me have a look," Marion said, crouching on his other side. Unbuttoning Adam's shirt, Marion gently peeled it off, then checked the wound as Beatrice approached with bandages and a canteen. "The arrows are almost through to the back," he stated. "How can we get them out?"

Joe swallowed hard; he knew what needed to be done. Looking at Adam, he could see his brother had reached the same conclusion. "We've got to break the shafts on this side and push it completely through."

Beatrice looked horrified. "Isn't there another way?" she all but whispered.

"It'll be a lot worse if we try to pull it out," he said harshly, pulling out his knife.

"Go get the jug my dear," Marion instructed. Beatrice retrieved the whiskey, pouring a healthy amount into the cup and offered it to Adam. He waved her away, then leaned back as Joe poured a small amount of the liquid over his blade. Anxiously, Joe looked at his brother; Adam gritted his teeth and nodded for them to go ahead.

"I'm sorry, Adam," Joe whispered. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, picturing what he was going to do. Mentally counting to three, he reached forward. . .

Snap! Snap! Adam felt as if red hot pokers had been pressed against his shoulder. He bit down on his lip, trying to fight back the nausea and pain that swept over him.

Swiftly, Joe took his knife and sliced into the two bulges in his brother's back, trying hard to ignore the shuddered gasp that came forth. Without hesitation, he pushed on the shafts with his left hand, grasped the slick arrowheads with his right and pulled them through. Barely pausing to wipe his hands off, he took up the jug and liberally poured the alcohol over the wounds.

Adam cried out as the alcohol burned through his shoulder, his vision turning gray then dark as he slumped against the boulder.

Joe breathed a sigh of relief as he realized Adam had passed out. Hastily he packed the folded bandages against both sides of Adam's shoulder, holding them firmly as Beatrice wrapped long strips of cloth tightly around them. He held his brother's injured arm in place as she used the remains of the ruined shirt to fashion a makeshift sling binding Adam's arm solidly against his torso. Carefully, they eased his coat back on, just as he began to come around.

"Little Joe, is Adam ok?" Hoss called worriedly. Joe jumped guiltily. He'd been so focused on Adam, he'd almost forgotten Hoss was there.

"We got the arrows out, but we need to get him back home," Joe replied. Adam's eyes fluttered as he groaned softly.

Joe turned to Marion. "Get his horse."

"Adam? Adam can you hear me?" Joe asked. Adam's head dipped in response, his breathing harsh and shallow, his eyes shut. "We're gonna get you back home, and get the doctor."

Marion walked up, leading Sport. "C'mon Adam, you've got to stand," Joe said. With Marion on one side and Joe on the other, Adam managed to stand, swaying slightly once he was up. With his good arm across his brother's shoulders, he stumbled to his horse; one hand on the pommel and a push from Joe had him seated in the saddle. Joe easily vaulted up behind his older brother, wrapping his arms around Adam as he took hold of the reins. Nervously sidestepping at the extra load, Sport quickly settled down at Joe's calm voice.

Worry lines creased Hoss's forehead. "Get him up to the house, Joe. We'll catch up after we drop these dadburned renegades with the sheriff," he said.

Joe nodded, urging Sport forward out of the clearing. Upon reaching Cochise, he checked to make sure his brother would remain in the saddle. "Adam?'

"Yeah, Joe," was the soft reply.

"We're going to head home, and it'll be easier on Sport if I ride Cooch," he said. "Can you stay in the saddle?"

"I'll make it," Adam said.


	2. Chapter 2

Adam held fast to the pommel with his good hand. All he could concentrate on was keeping upright in the saddle like he told Joe he would. His head ached, his shoulder was on fire, and the landscape was beginning to blur. Just when he thought he couldn't hold on any longer, the ranch house came into view. Ears ringing with Joe's call, Adam all but fell off his horse into his brother's strong arms as his father ran towards them.

There was a confusion of voices, his father's issuing orders for one of the hands to fetch the doctor and Joe's reassuring him everything would be ok.

Adam labored up the stairs to his room, Joe on one side, his father on the other. Once in his room, they removed Adam's jacket and gently laid him on his bed. Oh, that wonderful soft bed . . .

A new voice interjected itself. Gritting his teeth as the previous bandages were removed, Adam tried to push away the. . .whatever that was probing at his wounds. A hand caught his arm as his father's voice sounded nearby, "Easy son, easy. Let the doctor take a look."

As exhaustion threatened to pull him to sleep, Adam only caught snatches of conversation. ". . . stitched up. . .fever. ."

"How long. . ."

". . still. . .going to hurt. . ."

Something pressed and wiped against his shoulder, reigniting the sharp burning pain. His eyes snapped open and he saw a blurry Dr. Martin, but the needle Paul held glistened clearly in the lamplight. He tried to move away, but his father's strong grip kept him there.

"Adam, lie still!" Ben commanded. Adam stopped moving and Ben leant closer, resting a hand on his son's warm forehead. "Adam, Paul needs you to lie still so he can stitch up those arrow wounds. Can you do that?" he said gently.

Adam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Yeah, Pa, I hear you," he said quietly.

"That's good, boy," Ben replied. "I'm right here." Ben took hold of Adam's hand, leaving his other on his son's forehead.

Adam gritted his teeth as he felt the sharp poke of the needle, then tug and pull of the thread being drawn through. He began to breathe shallowly, his grip on his father's hand tightening with each stitch.

While it was hard to watch the doctor work, Ben was determined to be strong for Adam's sake. "Breathe slower and a little deeper, Adam. That's it," he soothed.

Suddenly, Adam's grip loosened as his head relaxed to the side. Ben looked up sharply. "Adam?"

"It's okay, Ben. He just passed out. Probably for the best anyway," Paul said. "Here, help me set him up a little so I can stitch the back." Ben hastily moved to assist.

With Adam resting comfortably after Paul was finished, Ben saw his friend out, then returned to Adam's room to keep vigil over his eldest son.

* * *

Water! He needed water to chase away the desert in his throat. It was so hot!

Suddenly, blessed relief. A coolness on his forehead. Someone was lifting his head, a cup touched his lips and he drank greedily, then sank back into the soft pillows, exhausted by the small effort. He welcomed the comforting darkness as it wrapped around him.

* * *

His shoulder was on fire and he felt weak, but none of that mattered. He had to keep Marion and Beatrice safe! Belcher's knife was at Beatrice's throat, but Adam caught the rifle and cocked it. Belcher turned and they both fired simultaneously.

The bullet tore through his shoulder as the world went dark; then a voice was nearby.

"Adam, you're all right son, you're okay!" Ben tried to calm him.

How did Pa get all the way out here? Something cool touched his forehead and he opened his eyes; colors and blurry images swam into view. He was home? Memory returned in a rush. Hoss and Joe saving them from the Indians. Riding back to the ranch with Joe. Dr. Martin tending his shoulder.

"Beatrice?" he rasped out.

"They both made it back just fine," Ben said as he poured a glass of water. Supporting Adam's head he helped him drink. "Joe went to help Hoss take the Indians into the sheriff. They came back several hours ago."

"Where are Marion and Beatrice now?" Adam asked.

"In the guest room downstairs. I offered for them to stay here as long as they need to." Ben sensed Adam was quickly tiring. "Try to rest, son."

"Yes, Pa," Adam said, closing his eyes.

Ben smiled to himself as Adam's breathing quickly evened out. Settling again into the chair, he picked up his book.

* * *

Low voices came from somewhere then light laughter drifted by. A clink sounded in the room and Adam's eyes flew open. He looked over to see his father standing by the window, a steaming cup of coffee in his hands.

Turning from the window, Ben saw his eldest gazing back at him.

"Pa?," Adam whispered.

"Adam," he said, instantly at the bedside. Setting his cup down, he checked Adam's forehead and was pleased to find no trace of fever. "How do you feel?"

"Sore. How long has it been?"

"Two days," came the reply. "Dr. Martin came by last night. He said your shoulder was healing fine, but it's going to take some time."

Just then the door opened and Joe poked his head in. "He's awake," he called over his shoulder. "Hey brother," he said, striding into the room followed closely by Hoss. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, Joe," Adam said.

"Glad to see you're awake, Adam," Hoss grinned. "Pa's been frettin' for two days. Ain't hardly slept nor ate."

"Ah, Hoss why don't you go see if Hop Sing has something for Adam to eat?" Ben interjected.

"Sure thing, Pa."

As Hoss hurried off downstairs, Ben stretched his tired arms. "Joe stay here for awhile, will you? I think I'll go wash up a bit."

"No problem, Pa," Joe replied. Closing the door after his father, Joe turned to see Adam trying to sit up on his own. "Take it easy, Adam," he said moving forward. Sliding his arm behind Adam's shoulders, Joe supported his brother as he propped the pillows with his free hand then helped Adam settle comfortably back. Carefully he reached forward and readjusted the sling for Adam's arm.

"Is that better?" Joe asked. Adam nodded, his breathing a little shallow as Joe poured a glass of water and handed it to him.

"Thanks." Adam drank long and deep. "I never said thank you for getting us out of there," he said, handing the cup back.

"Forget it. I'm sorry we weren't there sooner," Joe replied as he sat on the edge of the bed. "We should have been."

Adam stared at him. "Joe, it's not your fault."

"Isn't it? If I hadn't talked Hoss into leaving the horses, if I hadn't insisted on approaching on foot, you wouldn't be laid up." Joe looked down at his hands. "You got hurt because of me."

Adam could hardly believe what he was hearing. Resting his good hand on Joe's arm he spoke earnestly. "Joe, listen to me. If you hadn't come when you did, I'm not sure any of us would have made it out of there."

A single tear trickled down Joe's cheek he hastily swiped away as Adam continued. "You removed the arrows, stopped the bleeding, and kept me in the saddle until we got back home. The only reason I'm here is because of you."

"Do you really mean that?" Joe whispered, raising his head.

"Yes, Joe, I really mean that."

Like the sun shining from behind the clouds, Joe smiled widely at his oldest brother.

Moments later, Hoss returned with a tray. "Hop Sing says you should start with this, Adam," he said, carefully settling it on Adam's lap. "I reckon he knows what he's talking about."

Adam's stomach rumbled as Hoss tucked a napkin under Adam's chin. "Sounds to me like you're hungry," he joked.

As Adam set about eating, his father walked in. "I'll stay with Adam, you two get on back to your work."

"Yessir," Hoss said. "See you later, Adam." Adam lifted a hand in acknowledgment as Hoss headed back downstairs.

Joe didn't move from his perch on the edge of the bed. He could see how his father was exhausted and was determined to make sure he rested as well.

"Pa, why don't you go rest? Hoss was right, you've hardly slept for days."

Noticing his father's close scrutiny, Adam reassured him. "I'll be just fine with Joe here, Pa."

Ben started to protest but a large yawn had him smiling sheepishly. "Alright. Alright, I'll head to bed then. Call if you need me."

A short time later, Ben stopped outside his son's room for one last check before turning in. Pushing the door open slightly, he saw the empty tray set aside, a marginally healthier-looking Adam resting contentedly against his pillows, and Joe opening one of Adam's favorite books to begin reading aloud. Ben smiled to himself as he eased out of the room, confident and relieved that his oldest was indeed alright


End file.
